


to the limit

by anticommute



Category: EXO (Band), VIXX
Genre: M/M, basically ~inspired~ by chained up, by which i mean slave au, dubcon, i sry, im trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticommute/pseuds/anticommute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yixing may own leo, but at the end of the day, his will is his own--for better or for worse. alternatively: yixing owns leo and leo bristles. not in the way yixing expects. | leoxing slave au pwp</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the limit

The painted red of the collar stood in stark contrast against the pale skin of his neck. It was, as always, the first thing Yixing found his eyes drawn to. The door shut heavily behind him, Yixing leaning back against it as it closed. He’d dismissed the servants and the guards in the hall, and, looking down in front of him, he was glad to have done so.

“I didn’t ask for you today,” Yixing said. It came out far sharper than he’d meant it too. He frowned to himself. It had been a trying day.

“I know."

Familiar accent coating his words, Leo tilted his head up to look at him. His eyes, dark and piercing, matched the midnight black of his hair. Bangs tumbled loose, just brushing his eyes. He knelt on the floor, a few steps from the door, his wrists chained behind him, clad in a pair of white trousers. Scars marred what would have been a smooth expanse of skin; jagged, sharp, deep—his chest, his arms, and, Yixing knew, two long ones on his back. He’d put some of them there himself.

Spoils of war.

That’d been years ago now, years of _this_.

Yixing watched him from the edge of his vision as he removed his gloves, sword, and belt, leaving them carelessly on the table. Leo tracked him with his eyes, but was otherwise still. Nor did he move as Yixing removed his jacket and his tunic, draping them over the back of the chair. The room was chill, and Yixing shivered lightly as it cooled the sweat still on his skin. He sat heavily, body dropping limply into the chair, his eyes narrowed contemplatively as he regarded Leo. Leo’s eyes were still fixed on him, and Yixing met his gaze. He wondered idly how long Leo had been here for, and made a note to ask the servants later when they’d brought him up. The chains, at this point, were almost a formality. He didn’t think Leo would run, not anymore, but this was protocol, and one that wouldn’t be challenged. The chain that once ran from his wrists to the metal collar were long gone, as were the ones that had looped around his ankles. But the two thin metal bands on either wrist, locked to each other, released only when Leo was locked away safely below ground—those would remain, for as long as Leo remained his. As would the collar circling his neck.

It was long minutes before Yixing summoned the strength to stand again, walking towards Leo, then past him. Leo had to turn his head to look at him now, the metal collar shifting lightly against the clear lines of his neck.

“I didn’t ask for you today,” he said again. Yixing sat down on the bed, leaning back on his palms.

“I did,” Leo said. “You were…you seemed…"

The other man paused and frowned, searching for words.

“Tired?” Yixing suggested. “Annoyed?"

Leo’s brows were furrowed, but he nodded in assent.

Yixing let out choked laughter. “Is it really that bad?” he asked, not expecting an answer. He’d checked up on him only briefly this morning, a moment’s respite between two meetings. It was late night now, the second moon having already risen.

Leo said nothing and Yixing shook his head.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bed. When the other man didn’t move, Yixing sighed. “Come here, we’re alone, no one will bother us."

Taekwoon gave him A Look. The one where his eyes narrowed, imperceptible, unless one were looking for it. Where the corners of his mouth tightened, the line of his jaw set. Yixing stared back.

“Come here,” he repeated. A little more firmly this time. “Now."

“No."

Yixing raised an eyebrow. “You can’t say no,” he said, words measured. “You know that."

“No,” Taekwoon repeated. Stubborn. It was taking everything for him to say that one word—it was clear from the way his entire body had tensed, the grim set of his jaw, the strained line of his arms, fists clenched.

Yixing frowned. Taekwoon stayed where he was, head twisted back, eyes fixed steadily on him, still kneeling on the stone floor. Thin red lines appeared around Taekwoon’s wrists.

It was Yixing who gave in.

“You’re an idiot,” he said flatly. He stood, walked to stand in front of Taekwoon, arms crossed over his chest. “Now what?"

Taekwoon stayed mulishly silent, and Yixing was suddenly reminded of years back—and he froze.

"If this is supposed to help..." There was a low growl of frustration in his voice. Yixing pressed his lips together. Taekwoon stared up at him in defiance, an echo to when they’d still been strangers.

"Do it," Taekwoon said. Yixing didn’t have to ask what he meant. "Stop treating me like some glass doll."

"You know I hated it!" Yixing snapped. Hated forcing him, hated breaking him, hated being so rough. And here Taekwoon was, acting as if the understanding they’d built in these past years had never been. "Those months were terrible—for me, and you! Weren't they worse for you?"

Taekwoon glared at him. Yixing took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He took a deep breath. A calming breath. Taekwoon said he’d been treating him like a glass doll—Yixing thought he’d been treating him like a person. It hadn't always been like this—he remembered Taekwoon, no, Leo, defiant in a different way, stubborn in a different way. When his jaw was set with a grim determination, eyes blazing with something more feral, an obstinance rooted in something far more base. When he _had_ meant to break him, mold him. Yixing hadn't liked it—Taekwoon had to have hated it, but they never talked about it, and that was just how things were. He didn't want to go back to that.

"I won't move," Taekwoon said. "You can't make me."

"I can," Yixing said. "I _can_ make you."

"No," Taekwoon said again. Again, his jaw clenched, his shoulders trembled. Yixing stood, rooted to the spot. Watching. As was Taekwoon.

Yixing cursed, closing the distance between them in one step. He grabbed Taekwoon by the collar, dragging him upright. Taekwoon pulled back, overbalancing, falling onto his back. A hiss of pain as he landed badly, and Yixing cursed at himself again.

" _Stop it_ ," Yixing said. "I'll...I'll send you back, if you keep acting like this."

"But then everyone would see, and you'd _have_ to punish me." Taekwoon stared steadily at him.

Yixing drew a sharp breath. "You're _trying_ to get me to punish you," he said slowly. He shook his head.

"Just do it! Take what you want!" Taekwoon snarled.

"Who's giving the orders here?" Yixing asked. He grabbed Taekwoon by the shoulders this time, but Taekwoon just jerked out of his grasp. Yixing swore and held him by the collar. Damn it. Every moment, it felt more and more like the past.

"Why?" Yixing asked.

“What was the point if you never use me!?" Taekwoon's eyes flashed, his teeth bared. "At least let me be useful!"

Yixing laughed drily, involuntarily. He let go of Taekwoon and sat back on his heels.

"Is that what this is about?” he murmured.

An angry band of red was visible on either edge of the collar, where the metal had tightened, burned. Taekwoon sat up awkwardly, hands bound behind him.

"I don't mean—" Taekwoon gestured with his head, indicating the room, Yixing, him. He shook his head, both words and motion failing him. There was a tinge of anger now, a sharp flash of fire, and Yixing felt his heart drop. "You're too fucking nice to me!"

The words were barely out of his mouth before he doubled over. Yixing swore, hurrying to catch him before he collapsed entirely.

"You're just making this worse," Yixing mumbled. He buried his face in Taekwoon's shoulder. "You know I don't like forcing you to do anything."

But hell, in this case...

Yixing stood, letting go of Taekwoon.

"You own me," Taekwoon said. "Act like it."

Yixing shook his head, whether at Taekwoon or at himself, only the gods knew. But fine. Fine, if that was what Taekwoon wanted.

He twisted his fingers in Taekwoon's hair, forcing his head back. There was a self satisfied twist to Taekwoon's lips. A faint sheen of sweat glistened against his skin, as Taekwoon bared his teeth. With his free hand, Yixing undid the tie of his trousers.

"Make me," Taekwoon said.

"I will." Yixing grabbed Taekwoon by the jaw, forcing his mouth open. Taekwoon's eyes darkened, narrowed. His tongue flickered out against his lips. Yixing pressed his thumb against the corner of Taekwoon's mouth, letting go of Taekwoon's hair. Despite himself, Yixing was hard—still holding Taekwoon's mouth open, he pushed his cock into his mouth. Taekwoon gagged and Yixing hesitated, but then Taekwoon pressed his tongue against the underside of Yixing's cock, and Yixing's hips bucked forward.

Yixing’s fingers tangled in Taekwoon's hair as he fucked his mouth, holding him in place. Taekwoon jerked away—Yixing's fingers only tightened, a small whimper of pain slipping out against Yixing's cock, as Yixing pulled sharply at his hair, against his scalp. Taekwoon's mouth was hot, and heat pooled at the base of Yixing's torso.

He wasn't expecting it, wasn't expecting Taekwoon to pull away so quickly, shaking free of Yixing’s grasp. Taekwoon tensed immediately, body wracked in pain as he did so. His eyes, when he stared up at Yixing, screamed the same defiant _fucking try it_ that had once been their only communication.

“You—" Yixing backhanded Taekwoon across the face, Taekwoon's head snapping to one side. Again, he hauled Taekwoon up by the collar, this time throwing him onto the bed. Taekwoon growled, rolling onto his back, staring up at Yixing.

"You _own_ me," Taekwoon repeated. His voice was low, the words snarled. He was breathing hard, chest heaving. His mouth was bruised, and a thin line of blood trickled from his lip, where Yixing had broken skin.

"Then do as I say!" Yixing straddled Taekwoon. He slipped a finger underneath the metal collar. Taekwoon drew in a sharp breath. His hair fell messily over his eyes, damp now with sweat. His expression was tight—a tightness that immediately disappeared when Yixing let go.

"No," Taekwoon said—again. Yixing took a shuddering breath. How many times did they have to do this?

"How much is enough?" Yixing asked. His own voice was low, rough. He glared down at Taekwoon, teeth gritted. He could feel himself slowly losing control. "This is why I didn't ask for you...!"

"And I knew you wouldn't," Taekwoon growled. "You never do!"

Yixing grabbed Taekwoon's collar again. This time, Taekwoon jerked away, thrashing reflexively under Yixing. Yixing got off him, stared down at him. He traced a finger down one of Taekwoon's scars, the one that slashed across his chest. Taekwoon's breath hitched, his eyes slipping shut. His trousers were clearly tented and had slipped off one hip. Yixing pushed them down the rest of the way, Taekwoon shying away from his touch. Part of Yixing's mind screamed at him to be gentle, to slow down, but the other part had gone those three years back. He forced Taekwoon's legs apart, ran a hand down his thigh. Here too, was a map of scars, bearing witness to countless battles survived and won. These did not belong to Yixing. That was not a battle that Taekwoon had won.

His hand closing around Taekwoon's arm, and Yixing threw him face down. Taekwoon twisted his head back to look at him. His eyes were unreadable, dark through his bangs, lips caught between his teeth. Yixing ran a hand down Taekwoon's arm, circling his wrists, looping a finger under the chain that ran between them. It was a fine chain, light, thin—one that Yixing, even if he couldn't release it, could have broken. But he did not release it, nor did he break it. Instead, he tugged at it, until Taekwoon was biting at his lips to hold back the whimper of pain as the bands of metal cut into his skin. Yixing stared, detached, as blood welled up, painting the silver a dark red, darker than the band that circled Taekwoon's neck. Long moments later, he let go. Taekwoon's arms jerked back as soon as he did.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yixing forced Taekwoon onto his knees and his legs apart. And then he stopped.

Took in the blood on Taekwoon's skin, the bruising on his face.

Yixing sat back onto his heels, running a hand through his hair.

"I can't do this, Taekwoon-ah," he said, steadily ignoring the voice that insisted yes, yes he could, he had, and even now, he wanted to.

In response, Taekwoon struggled up, twisting around. His eyes were fixed on Yixing's, dark, sharp, scrutinising. And then he lunged forward.

Yixing grunted in surprise as Taekwoon slammed heavily into him, tumbling them both off the bed and onto the floor. Yixing's head hit the ground—when his eyes cleared, it was to Taekwoon doubled over, curled on the floor, body shaking.

"This is too far," Yixing murmured. He reached out, head still swimming, to run a soothing hand down Taekwoon's back, but Taekwoon jerked away at the touch.

"Don't," he choked out. "You _own_ me."

"That doesn't mean I have to—"

"You mean I'm useless!"

Taekwoon was still curled up, face hidden against the floor.

"You're not—"

But again, Taekwoon cut him off, this time with a sharp bark of laughter.

"How can you know? How can you know I'm not?"

"Because I _like_ you," Yixing said sharply. "Just because I don't _use_ you doesn't mean you're useless, you idiot!"

"That's not for you to decide," Taekwoon said. His voice was suddenly quiet. He curled up tighter.

"Don't tell me…"

"You're not supposed to like me," Taekwoon said. His voice was barely audible, his words flat. "Not if you own me."

Taekwoon was still trembling, and Yixing knew it wouldn’t stop as long as he refused to do what Yixing wanted. Which meant as long as Yixing wanted him to stop being an idiot, as long as he wanted Taekwoon to let him do things as he'd become used to doing them, every strand of Taekwoon's body, mind, would continue to protest.

Taekwoon may have belonged to Yixing, but at the end of the day, his will would always be his own.

Yixing swore under his breath.

He knew without touching it that the collar was burning hot, but he brushed a finger against it anyway. Taekwoon hissed at the contact, and Yixing drew his hand back.

Yixing took a deep breath, and this time, it was not a calming one, but one that gave in to what Taekwoon wanted. And, if Yixing could be honest with himself, what a deep, buried part of him wanted. Because as long as one lived in this world, the irresistible call of power over another would always ring clear as a siren's bell.

The thing was, Taekwoon was beautiful. His features were sharp, fine, with an intensity that Yixing couldn't quite put his finger on. His body was leonine, lean and muscled. And his eyes—the ones that had made Yixing pause, stay his blade, even when the words he'd said had been _kill me_. There was too much fire, too much spirit, too much life. Nor could Yixing deny the lure, the attraction inherent in having that bound and helpless in front of him. Call it a hunter's instinct. But who was the hunter now, and who was the prey?

Yixing caught Taekwoon's chin, turned him to face him. His expression had softened, eyes strangely warm. Yixing tangled fingers in Taekwoon's hair, crushing their lips together, and kissed him roughly. The taste of blood greeted him. Taekwoon stiffened, then melted under him, pliant, even when he grew light-headed from a lack of air. It was long moments before Yixing pulled away, his own chest heaving. Taekwoon stared up at him, lips slightly parted. Damn it, but he was beautiful.

"Turn around," Yixing said.

Taekwoon just stared, not moving. The muscles in his neck tightened as he continued to stay where he was. Yixing snarled, but flipped him over, their positions again like moments ago, only this time on the floor instead of the bed. Again, Taekwoon twisted his head back to watch him, the collar shifting against his neck as he did. Taekwoon held his gaze, unwavering, as Yixing settled himself behind Taekwoon and thrust in. Taekwoon was hot, tight, too tight—but the only visible sign was how Taekwoon clamped his lips between his teeth, so tight that it broke skin, a low whimper escaping from his throat.

Yixing groaned, heat flashing through his body with every movement. His fingers tangled in Taekwoon's hair, grasped at Taekwoon's arm. He thrust into him, Taekwoon too tight around him, his hips snapping forward relentlessly, drawing desperate breathy moans from Taekwoon, each one catching the last as Yixing fucked him rough and fast. Taekwoon's fingers tightened spasmodically into fists, nails digging into his palms. His eyes had squeezed shut, his lips now parted, bruised and red with blood.

Yixing's own breath caught in his throat as he bit back moans. His palm ran down the faint ridges of Taekwoon's spine, his back arched back as Yixing's fingers pulled his head back. Taekwoon's skin was hot, flushed under Yixing's touch. His shoulders strained back, the line of his arms pulled taut as his wrists were caught behind Yixing's grasp. Yixing let out a shuddered moan as he took in the scene in front of him as he fucked Taekwoon. Taekwoon _hurt_ he could feel it in the way Taekwoon tensed every time Yixing thrust in, but that only fueled him, only heated his blood into turmoil, boiling with need.

It didn't take much—it crashed over him, drowning him, engulfing him. Taekwoon let out a hoarse cry under him as Yixing came inside of him, fingers digging tight into Taekwoon's skin, his shoulders pulled painfully back. The last feelings of pleasure shocked through his nerves, Yixing's breathy moan slipping from his mouth.

And with it, the need, the urgency.

He let go, abruptly—Taekwoon fell forward, suddenly unsupported. Yixing barely caught him again before he slammed face first into the floor.

"I..."

"Don't." Taekwoon's voice was harsh, rough. He didn't turn to look at Yixing. The skin under the shackles, the collar, was raw and red. Yixing bit his lip as he stood, leaving Taekwoon where he was.

The slave lay there, limp on the floor, covered in scars, wrists chained behind him, Yixing's come dripping off him. His head was bowed, his hair damp, plastered against his neck, a few strands caught in his collar.

Yixing blinked, and shook his head.

"Get up," he said.

He hesitated, unsure of what Taekwoon would do, but this time, he did. Taekwoon pulled his knees to his chest as he rolled onto his side. His movements were slow, laborious as he struggled first to his knees then to his feet, his back still turned. He was tall, taller than Yixing, a fact made obvious as Yixing walked forward, wrapping his arms around Taekwoon's waist as he leaned against his back, lying his cheek against Taekwoon's shoulder. Taekwoon's arms were caught between them.

“You were going to apologise," Taekwoon said. “Are."

Yixing tensed in surprise.

"I know you are," Taekwoon said.

Yixing laughed softly. "You know me too well."

"I know," Taekwoon said. "That's dangerous."

"I trust you?" Yixing said.

"Was that a question?" Taekwoon chuckled.

Yixing shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry—no wait, let me finish—I'm sorry for not thinking about your feelings," he said. And of course there’d be talk. He hadn’t thought about that either. "I just wanted it to be okay, you know?"

"You _own_ me, you're not supposed to do that," Taekwoon said. Petulantly. He said it petulantly. Yixing shook his head again, this time to himself in amusement.

"That wasn't very fair of me, was it?" Taekwoon said, after a moment.

"No, it wasn't," Yixing said immediately. "Don't do that again."

"Was that an order?"

Yixing pulled back, but when Taekwoon turned, it was with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Yixing shook his head in exasperation, and tugged Taekwoon with him to the bed as he fell back heavily onto it. Taekwoon, this time, obliged, curling up next to Yixing like a cat, burying his face in Yixing's shoulder. Yixing absentmindedly stroked Taekwoon's hair, feeling his breathing even out and slow.

"What happened?" Taekwoon mumbled into his skin.

"Hmm?"

"What happened today? You...got even more...tired?" Taekwoon drew back a little to look at Yixing, the question obvious on his face.

Yixing brushed his thumb against Taekwoon's face, wiping away the blood by his mouth. "Meetings," Yixing said. "Strategy, internal diplomacy, something about...I don't remember, and then...a raiding party. Had to take care of it."

He grimaced, then shook it away.

"You really don't like to kill," Taekwoon noted softly. "It's strange."

"Is it?" Yixing hummed. "I shouldn't be telling you any of this, should I?"

"I don't mind," Taekwoon said. He grinned, showing teeth. "If I escape, I can tell them all about how one of your kingdom's Swords doesn't like killing people."

Yixing groaned. "Don't even joke," he said. "You know they'd kill you before that happened."

"I know," Taekwoon said. "I wouldn't anyway. I...there's no point."

They'd talked about this before, and Yixing just nodded, combing his fingers through Taekwoon's hair. He couldn't imagine it, living like Taekwoon was now, knowing that there was nothing left outside of it. Now, years later, he could understand why, on the battlefield, faced with death or captivity, Taekwoon had asked for the former. If that ever happened to him...Yixing would probably do the same.

But that wasn't something Yixing wanted to think about right now. Or ever, but especially not right now.

"Thank you, I do feel better, a little," Yixing said.

"I am sorry," Taekwoon said quietly. "I just...Because you never...You only...When you're...And then, I..."

Yixing laughed as Taekwoon struggled to find the right words. "I'll ask for you next time, I promise," he said. "Even if I won't be able to control myself very well...I realised just now but, wanting to help someone but not being able to, it's not a very good feeling, is it? I'd feel pretty useless too."

Taekwoon was silent for a long moment before he replied. "It isn't," he said.

"Then I definitely will. Only..." Yixing trailed off a little wistfully. "It's strange if I see you too often, and I don't want it to always be for...well, for this."

"It won't," Taekwoon said firmly. "Besides, I don't mind. Really."

"Really?" Yixing furrowed his brows.

Hesitation flickered across Taekwoon's expression, before he nodded. "Anything's better than being stuck in that room," he said.

Yixing grimaced. "I wish I didn't have to send you back," he said. "I wish I could just keep you here."

"Doesn't work that way," Taekwoon said.

"I know, I know, because we're not supposed to get emotionally attached, you're only supposed to 'relieve my needs', because anything else would make me a bad fighter—although I am? already?—and because you're still the enemy and you can't get emotionally attached to the enemy," Yixing rattled off. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Taekwoon. "Wait, I'm _your_ enemy too."

"Please don't tell me you just realised that."

"No! I mean, I just...forget? Sometimes?"

Taekwoon hummed, curling up against Yixing again. "I do too," he said. "It's easier to forget."

"I _really_ don't want to send you back," Yixing said. "What if I 'forgot'?"

"I'll be the one they punish," Taekwoon pointed out.

"But what if I insisted? Ordered?" Yixing said, but he knew the answer. He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, I know this is way worse for you."

"Will you stop apologising? Isn't that what you always say—make the best of the situation? You can't change the fact that you own me or that we're enemies, and that at the end of the day this is only a few hours of pretend." Taekwoon paused. "But I...I like being Taekwoon."

"I like Taekwoon more than 'Leo'," Yixing agreed. "I can like one, but not the other."

Taekwoon fell silent. "You can't—"

"I forget I can't," Yixing said affably. "So I'll continue to like Taekwoon even if I can't like who you are once you leave this room."

Taekwoon snorted. "Yes master," he said. "Whatever you say."

"I know you're older than me...but how come you're such a brat?" Yixing complained. He shook his head, tracing a finger along Taekwoon's collar, drawing a content sigh from Taekwoon. "Can you at least stay for a bit?"

"I..." Taekwoon hesitated, before he nodded. "Until you fall asleep, I'll stay."

Yixing thought, briefly, about saying that he'd just stay awake, but Taekwoon's expression was earnest, and he didn't want to ruin it. So, instead, he nodded, brushing Taekwoon's bangs from his face. He really was pretty, but more importantly, he was warm, and sincere, and everything that made Yixing wish they could've met under different circumstances. But under different circumstances they likely wouldn't have met at all. That would've been better—for Taekwoon, at least, but Yixing could sometimes be selfish too.

"Then...Good night, Taekwoon-ah," he said. He let his eyes fall shut, knowing that Taekwoon was still watching him, but the sharpness had long since melted away. He'd been tired, and now, it was too easy to let exhaustion wash over him.

It took far too little time for sleep to claim him. But not before, faintly, Taekwoon's "I really am sorry" melted against his skin, but by then, Yixing was too far past the boundary of wakefulness to protest it. And by the time he was awake again, he knew that it'd be as if Taekwoon hadn't said that at all—at least until the next time.


End file.
